


Ifs and Maybes

by Emmilyne



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fix-It, Hopeful Ending, post 4x15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9424832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/pseuds/Emmilyne
Summary: Felicity returns home after helping to rescue Oliver’s son, the one she only found out about the day before, with more questions than answers, but after hearing him send his son away…again…she knows one thing.  She can’t do this.Then Oliver ruins her beautifully tragic exit, when he refuses to let her just walk out that door.An alternate ending to 4x15: Taken, more hopeful than the original and with a whole lot more yelling.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story represents Felicity’s head space before and during the last scene of **Taken** (4x15).  It does not necessarily represent her thoughts and feelings on the average day, but, those after she has after she has undergone something heartbreaking.  This is also a fix-it, so the end is changed.
> 
> I’m expecting this to be a controversial piece.  It was inspired by all the controversy in the Olicity fandom about how the break-up went down.  The word “fault” is used a lot.  I wanted to write this as a way to express my point of view on Felicity’s point of view.

Everyone expected Felicity to forgive him.

Thea.  Digg.  Laurel… _Samantha_.

They all expected her to look past Oliver’s lie…and they could say it was sin of omission, that it wasn’t a real ‘ _lie_ _’_.  But it was.  Oh, it _was_.  It was a thousand tiny lies that started with ‘it’s nothing’ and escalated to a hurricane of untruths sprinkled throughout their beautiful life together.  But, maybe, that was the greatest lie of all. 

Yet, none of that seemed to matter, because Felicity was expected to see the reasons behind Oliver’s actions and forgive him.  Because that was what Felicity did.  Forgive.  Forgive everyone.  Especially Oliver.

Over and over and over again.

Felicity was the Goddamn Patron Saint of Forgiveness.  There was probably already a Patron Saint of Forgiveness and she would know who it was if she were Catholic and not Jewish, but whatever.

It was irrelevant, anyway, because no matter what everyone thought, she wasn’t a fraken saint…no, Felicity wasn’t a _fucking_ saint.    If there was ever a time Felicity could use the word ‘fuck’ it was now.  Today, she was allowed.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  _Fuck_.

It felt good.  Even if it was just in her head.

Because Felicity was not a _fucking_ saint and she was tired of taking and taking and taking.  No, maybe it was _giving_ that she was tired of.  Tired of being everyone else’s light and hope.  The Team.  Oliver.  Maybe… _maybe_ , she just didn’t have any light left to share.

Felicity gave up.  She gave up on everything.  She had been bled dry.  This was very possibly the last straw her overworked back could take.

When Felicity was seven-years-old, her father left and she moved to a city where she didn’t fit in, with a mother she couldn’t relate to.  A mother who loved her, but didn’t _get_ her, even when she wasn’t at one of the two jobs she worked at around the clock. 

But Felicity had picked herself up and gotten herself out of that stupid high school with all those petty, shallow… _idiots,_ who looked down at her for being different and weird and too smart for her own good.  She got into MIT early and she…she thought she fit in.  Finally.

But it all went incredibly wrong and the first boy Felicity ever loved, the first person she really opened herself up to…he chose death over her.  Even though, in the end, it turned out he had just chosen…well, _evil_ over her…and, truly, maybe that was worse. 

Her world fell apart.  Again.  So, Felicity started over.  Again.  With a new set of armor in the form of glasses and pencil skirts, Felicity found a new city, as far away from Boston as she could get.  She became a work-a-holic and she lived a safe, boring life.  Surrounded by something that couldn’t betray her, that she could control.  Computers.  

Then Oliver Queen walked…no, _sauntered_ into her cubical and brought her back to life.

Felicity thought she’d found herself.  Thought she’d found what she wanted to…was _supposed_ to do with her life.  To help people.  To _save_ people.  To save _him_.

How stupid could she have possibly been?  Felicity had fallen for the oldest girl trap in the book.  The conviction that she could save a man.

But Felicity had been certain that she had found a purpose for her life.  And she thought she’d found true love.

And _that_ was what allowed her to stay strong.  Those convictions.  The world fell apart around her…over and over and over again, but Felicity stayed strong.  Oliver said he loved her and then said it was a lie and she stayed strong.  For her.  For him.  For the city.  Then Oliver said he lied about it being a lie, that he _did_ love her, but he couldn’t be with her because of those five _thousand_ secrets that kept appearing to _kill_ _them all_ _…_

Why was she shocked, again?  How could Felicity have possibly been surprised that Oliver hadn’t told her about William?  All these years and all the lies…the enumerable secrets?  How had it blindsided her like this?

Oh, yeah, because Felicity had thought that they were past all that.  That was where a 173 IQ means nothing, because love is blind and all the frak— _fucking_ nonsense.

Because Felicity had thought that she and Oliver had moved past the secrets and the lies to a mature, trusting relationship.  A true partnership, based on trust, openness, and love.

That was what had gotten Felicity through these last few _horrible_ months.  Her faith in that relationship, in Oliver.  It got her through getting shot, through surgery after surgery, through not being able to feel anything below her waist…when he wasn’t even _fucking_ there!

But, still, Felicity had had faith in him.  She _believed_ in him.  Believed that Oliver had to have had a really good fucking reason (and now that she was dropping mental f-bombs right and left she could see why people used that word so much.  It felt great!) 

And Oliver came back to her and was the man Felicity knew… _thought_ she knew…and she felt vindicated in her faith in him.  He had just needed time to come to grips with what happened to her.  He needed something to punch.  She knew that.  He was a doer.  He couldn’t stand sitting around and waiting.  So, she gave him time and he came to her with beautiful words and perfect apologies.

Oliver had been there for her.  Not _immediately_ after Felicity lost her legs, but the whole time after and that got her through.  It even got her through being betrayed by her father.  Again.

And during all of it, Felicity was Oliver’s light.  His _fucking_ light.

Now…now, Felicity didn’t know what she was.  She didn’t know what _he_ was.  Their relationship…was it _all_ a lie?  Was he just _pretending_ to be the perfect boyfriend?  The perfect _fianc_ _é_?  While all along he was lying to her about…anything… _everything_?

Because if Oliver could lie to her about something as important as having a son, he could lie to her about almost anything.  It called into question _every_ word her said to her…

Okay…now Felicity was spiraling. 

Maybe, she was over-reacting.  Everyone else seemed to think she was.  That Oliver had been put in a terrible position.  A no-win scenario.  Her or his son.  Of course, he should choose the innocent child (though, not being the one chosen still hurt, even if it was unfair).  But Felicity couldn’t help but think that those weren’t the only two choices and…

_Alright_.  Deep breaths.  In and out. 

Felicity was a rational, intelligent woman in a mature, committed relationship.  She was going to sit down with her fiancé (not like she could stand anyway) and have a grownup discussion before she did anything rash (like chucking a fifty-thousand-dollar ring at Oliver’s head).

As Felicity approached the door to the Loft, the home they had built together, she heard Oliver’s voice and she wasn’t sure what she thought of having company.  She didn’t know how she was going to deal with him, never mind someone else.  Especially if those someones were Samantha and William…God, she didn’t know what she would do…

Okay…stop…no freaking out…Oliver was probably just on the phone.  This assuming the worst, panicky thing needed to stop.  Felicity needed to be _rational_.  To go in there and _talk_ to him and…

Oliver didn’t seem to hear Felicity open the door…

Oh _God_.  Because…because he was recording a video for William.  At least they weren’t there in person, but why would he…?  Then she listened and Felicity realized why and…oh _no_.  This was worse…so much worse.

It felt like she was listening to the Oliver of a year and a half ago.  The Oliver who stood outside of Lyla’s maternity room and told Felicity that he couldn’t be with her because of the Arrow.  That it was too dangerous.  That he couldn’t be Oliver Queen _and_ the Arrow at the same time.

And now… _now_ Oliver was telling his son the same fr— _fucking_ thing.

But this man was _supposed_ to have grown.  _This_ man asked Felicity to spend the rest of her life with him.  Asked her to have children with him…

Felicity sucked in a quiet breath.  She would not break down.  She would not cry.  Not now.  Later, she could…she _would_.  But when she was alone.  Not now.

Would Oliver always revert back to that man on the island?  Would he wait until they had a family together and leave them all for their ‘own good?’  Just like Felicity’s father had done?   Oh God.  Was she doomed to make the same mistakes over and over?  And her mother’s on top of that?

And that was when Felicity knew.  Knew she couldn’t do this.

“How much did you hear?” Oliver asked, but it didn’t matter.  She’d heard enough to give her the strength to look into the devastated face of the man she loved…and, oh yes, Felicity still loved him, she didn’t know if that would or _could_ ever change…and break her own heart as she slid the ostentatious ring that she had come to adore off of her finger.

As soon as it was off, though, Felicity knew it was the right decision.  She felt lighter.  Ever since she had found out about William, the ring been a lead weight, uncomfortable and strange feeling.  It stopped being a symbol of their love and became reminder of what _should_ have been.

Felicity looked into Oliver’s eyes and watched herself shatter what was left of his heart.  It was painful to watch, but she had no choice, because, right now, she had to protect what was left of _hers_. 

She told him she need space, room to breathe.  She told him she already knew all the arguments and justifications that Oliver had to argue his case.  Felicity stole any power those words might have.

Because Felicity didn’t want to hear them from Oliver’s lips.  Couldn’t.

Then, for once in her cursed life, God took pity on her.  Just when Felicity had never wanted to escape more, her feet moved.

“Felicity?”

What had Bubba once said…?  When God closed a door, he opened a window? 

With head held high…well, as high as Felicity could manage with legs as wobbly as a new born colt’s, she stood.  And she walked away from the love of her life.

But before she could complete her truly spectacular, dramatic, yet tragic, exit, Oliver had to ruin it.

He appeared in her path, stopping her from capturing the door knob.  And it was really unfair, because Oliver moved way faster than her on a good day and today…it was really just showing off.  Also, considering Felicity had her eyes on her feet she could have completely toppled over, which would have really sucked, because hello, dramatic exit and, also, injured party here.  On _so_ many levels… _injured party_.  Couldn’t Oliver at least let Felicity have the dignity of her spectacular exit!?  Just this once?

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver breathed and it held so much sadness, so much regret.  It called to this place deep inside her.  So much so that she wanted to…to _punch him_ in his beautiful face.  “You can’t just walk out—”

The _hell_ she couldn’t!  See…feet moving.  Not only did Felicity have the right and the will to walk right out that door, but some higher power had _finally_ granted her the way.  “I _said_ I need space, Oliver.”

“I know and I want to give you that, but…”  Oliver blew out a breath and…did he _have_ to look so genuine and sweet? 

It was like salt on the wound.  Felicity just wanted out.  It was starting to be hard to breathe in here.

“Felicity,” Oliver repeated for like the hundredth time, as if saying her name over and over would change something.  He reached out to cup her elbows.

And… _hell no,_ was he touching her.  Felicity flinched, yanking herself away from his hands.

Oliver withdrew immediately, jerking his hands back and holding them up in surrender.  “Okay, okay…sorry, I didn’t mean…what I mean to say is…you just got your legs back and,” he took a shaky breath, “it’s amazing and wonderful and…but you can’t just go out there…”

Felicity’s jaw ticked.  She was trying real hard to maintain her composure here.  But, of _course_ , Oliver just couldn’t make it easy.

“What if your legs give out again halfway down the stairs?” Oliver pleaded.  “Or in the middle off driving or…?”

_And_ …there went Felicity’s dramatic exit.  Did Oliver have to be sweet _and_ right?  It wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t.  What right did he have to think about her _now,_ when all thoughts of her went poof the second William was, somehow, involved? 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Felicity snapped, because she was at the end of her rope.  “I’ll just…”  She’d just call Curtis or… _someone_.  She just needed to get the hell out of this Loft.  She tried to skirt around the huge wall of a man blocking her way.

“Let me just drive you to the doctor—”

“I said I’m _fine_!” And, of _course_ , just as Felicity tried to maneuver around him, her stupid legs got all tangled and Mr. Stupid Reflex Man caught her.

Then Felicity’s heart was beating a mile a minute and her eyes were blurring and her throat closing and she really didn’t know how she managed to not burst out crying right then and there.  She just wanted out of this apartment.  Was that too much to ask?  Oh, why couldn’t she just get _out_!

“Here.” Oliver wrapped an arm around Felicity’s back, supporting her, and his voice was so kind and loving…

And a tear slipped free.  Felicity turned her face away from him, but she had no choice but to let Oliver help her to the couch.  Had she said God was giving her a break?  Nope, God _clearly_ hated her.  Felicity didn’t even want to know what she had done in a prior life, because it must have been horrible.

Oliver gently guided Felicity down onto the sofa, letting her weak and wobbly legs have a break.  But when was he going to stop touching her?  And, _God_ , stop looking at her like that?  All concerned and…?

“Is it all an act?” Felicity barked out, because she was hurt and she was cornered and it was not fucking fair.  She swiped her cheeks with a little too much vehemence, angry at the tears for escaping when she had very clearly told them to _stay_.

His eyes furrowed.   He looked so confused.  Poor puppy.  “What?” Oliver shook his head and… sometimes, he could be _such_ an idiot.

 And, _sometimes_ , Felicity just…really hated him.  “This perfect boyfriend… _fianc_ _é_ routine.”  And she may have actually been proud of the sneer she managed, that’s how livid she was.  “Is it an act?”

Oliver reeled back on his haunches as if he had been punched.  He looked stricken, shocked.  Good!  Felicity had tried not to be confrontational, but he’d made her stay and it wasn’t fair and she was _not_ going to be the only one to suffer. 

“No!  What?  Of _course_ not—”

“Are you sure?  Because you seem to be two different people.  The perfect boyfriend, who says the right thing and holds my hand and makes dinner and catches his invalid girlfriend when she—”

“ _Felicity_!” Oliver was good and stunned now.  This was a side of her he didn’t often get to see.  The mean, wounded, angry side.  Felicity was glad.  He needed to know she was more than positivity and light, know how much he hurt her.

And there was no putting _this_ Felicity back in the bottle now, even if she wanted to.  “And then there’s the man who runs off to play Daddy in Central City to another family.”

Oliver opened and closed his mouth, like a mindless fish.  And Felicity knew she was taking this too far, but she had _tried_ to leave.  _Before_ the irrational wounded part of her came out…but he wouldn’t let her.  Now he could deal with the consequences.  For once.

“That’s not what happened!  I would _never_ —”

And it was the ‘I would never’ that _really_ set Felicity off.  “Really?  Because that seems to be exactly what you were doing.  It was very easy for you to lie to me, your trusting _gullible_ fiancé, as you were running off to them!”  And, God, she hated how pathetic she sounded, like a daytime T.V reject.

“That’s not fair.”  Oliver’s words were soft, wounded.

It probably wasn’t fair.  Felicity probably sounded like a jealous shrew.  But she didn’t care, not in that moment.  “How do _I_ know that?  How do I know it’s not _all_ a lie?”

“Because you do!”  And Felicity’s breath hissed.  Oliver had found his voice again and it was loud.  “Because you know _me_ and you know that,” his voice broke, “that loving you is the truest—”

“ _Don_ _’_ _t_!”  Felicity couldn’t hear this right now.  She couldn’t.

Mercifully, he stopped, but Felicity didn’t know if it was because she asked him to or because the words got stuck.  Oliver was swallowing compulsively, his eyes glassy and his face all sort of crumbly.   She had to turn away from him, her hand clamped over her mouth to keep the sobs in.  It was too late for the tears.

“Okay,” Oliver breathed.  When Felicity was finally able to look at him, he was rubbing his hands over his face and muttering to himself, “Okay,” over and over.  She wondered if she had finally broken him for good.  Only so many times you can put a man back together.

Finally, Oliver lifted his face and met her eyes.  “I know that you are furious and hurt and…”

Felicity scoffed, what else could she do?  She wasn’t sure she trusted herself to speak.

“And you have _every_ right to be.  I f—messed up.”

“You can say fucked,” Felicity blurted out, not even sure why.  “It’s the right word.  You _fucked_ up.”

Oliver’s lips twitched and Felicity cursed herself, wishing she hadn’t broken the tension.  He deserved the tension.

“I _fucked_ up.  Big time.  And I can’t possibly tell you how _sorry_ I am.”

Felicity locked her eyes on the candles in the fireplace, letting them lose focus.  She whispered…or maybe it was a whimper, “Maybe sorry just isn’t enough this time.”

“I know.  I know.”  Oliver was starting to sound desperate and like he was going to break down in tears, which he almost never did, and now Felicity _really_ couldn’t look at him.  “But right now…” He took a steadying breath.  “Right _now_ , that’s not important.”

Felicity’s eyes snapped back to his.  Seriously?  _Seriously_?

Oliver’s hands flew up, his eyes widening in panic as he rushed to add, “I mean, it’s not the _most_ important thing.  Your legs…your _health_ is the most important thing.”

And Felicity narrowed her eyes at him, because it was almost worse when Oliver said the _right_ thing.

“Can we, maybe, just focus on that…then you can yell at me or…leave…or _I_ _’_ _ll_ leave…it’s probably only fair that _I_ leave…”

“You got that right,” Felicity grumbled, because not only was it fair, but then she didn’t have to worry about her damn legs giving out.

The idiot man almost smiled again.  Did he _have_ to find her so damn amusing all the time?  “But can we just focus on this,” Oliver gestured to her legs, “right now?”

Felicity bit the inside of her cheek, wishing the tears would stop, and thought it over.  Her pride probably wasn’t worth risking anything going wrong with the stimulator.  Finally, she gave a sharp nod.

“Okay.  Good,” Oliver breathed, his hands falling to her feet.

Felicity jerked them back on reflex.  She had _not_ given him permission to touch her!  That was not part of the deal.  “What are you _doing_?”

But the… _asshole_ gave a joyful laugh.

“Are you kidding me right now?  What the hell are you laughing at?”

Oliver didn’t even try to control his smile.  “Did you see how fast your feet moved?”

Oh…oh yeah…Felicity looked back down at her feet and flexed her ankles, almost breathless when they did as they were told.  She made a circle with her toes…wow…

“Wow,” Oliver breathed, echoing her thoughts.

Yeah.  Wow.  Felicity had dreamed of this moment.  Maybe more than her wedding day.  Dreamed of sharing it with Oliver…

A sob tore from Felicity’s throat.

“Hey,” Oliver’s tone was instantly concerned again.  He reached for her—

“No!”  Felicity held her hands up, blocking him.  “No touching.  You…lost the right to touch.”  If Oliver touched her she was _really_ going to lose it!

Oliver’s hands went up too, mirroring hers, though, more in surrender than in blocking.  What did he have to block?  That would be stupid.  “Okay.  No touching.”  He refocused on her feet, his face growing intent…then the idiot put his hands on her ankles again.

“Hey, that’s touching.  What did we just say?!”

“I’m taking off your shoes,” Oliver defended.  “You can’t walk for the first time in months in heels.”

_Now_ , Oliver had to be the logical one.  Felicity glared at him.  “I can do it myself.” And it sounded childish, even to her own ears.  But she lifted her foot and rested it on her thigh, prying off the short boot—

“Whoa!” Oliver whispered, watching the movements with complete awe.

Felicity bit her lip to keep from smiling, because, yeah… _whoa_.  It was a simple movement that she had taken for granted before, but now…it was so complex and used so many different muscles, nerves… _whoa_.  Curtis was a genius.  A miracle worker.

Both shoes came off easily and her socks too, because Felicity wanted to feel the air on her toes and it…it felt incredible.  She wiggled them and it was easy, actually easy.  Now, the tears in her eyes were of a very different variety.  Well, maybe not that different.  She was starting to become overwhelmed with all the different emotions churning inside her.

“Can I, please…” Oliver gestured toward her feet again, his eyes heartbreakingly pleading.  “Just to check?  For science or medical purposes or…I mean—”

“Fine,” Felicity told him curtly, but it didn’t have the bite it had before.  Right now, she was much more concerned with her legs than her love life.

Oliver ran a finger, gently, over the bottom of her foot and her toes reflectively contracted as a tickle ran through her.  Miraculously, she let out a happy laugh.  Oliver was grinning, but his eyes were focused on her feet, so Felicity allowed herself to smile as well, secure in knowing that he wasn’t watching.

Cupping her foot, Oliver breathed, “Does this feel—?”

“Totally normal,” Felicity couldn’t keep the awe from her voice.  She had worried that, maybe, she would have forgotten what normal felt like.  But she hadn’t.

Smiling wider, Oliver ran his hands up to her ankles.  Felicity shivered as she felt his touch for the first time in months.  It felt as it always did, beautiful and shivery and arousing and…

“That’s enough science.”  Felicity’s foot went automatically to Oliver’s shoulder and pushed…well, kinda kicked…him away from her.

Not expecting it, Oliver fell back onto his ass with a rather satisfying thump.  He braced himself back on his hands, but when he looked up at Felicity it was with nothing but joy and wonder, maybe even love.

God _damn_ him!  He didn’t deserve to share this with her.  Especially not when her enjoyment of it was so muddled in grief and betrayal and…it was all his fault.  Felicity pushed herself to her feet.

“Can I—”

This time, Felicity let the glare of death speak for her.  Oliver’s hands flew back up into the air.  Good, he should just keep them there where she could see him.

Felicity concentrated on her feet and the simple, yet, monumental task of putting one foot in front of the other while holding up her own weight.  Feeling first the soft carpet, then the cool, hardwood floor beneath her toes, she walked the length of the Loft and back again.  Her legs were wobbly at first, but gained strength with each step. 

It was a miracle.  She’d almost given up hope and now…Felicity felt like she could run.  She finally allowed herself to feel… _happiness_.  She could walk again.  _She could walk_.

Joy, relief, gratitude surged through her and, instinctively, she looked for Oliver.  He was looking back at her with the same emotions mirrored in his eyes.  And Felicity wanted to run _to him_.  Wanted him to sweep her into his arms and carry her upstairs so she could relive what their sex lives _used_ to be, like all those thousands of fantasies…

But…

A sob rose violently in Felicity’s throat.

Because she couldn’t have that fantasy.  Never would.  Because it was all a lie.

Felicity pressed her hands to her chest as she drew herself up tall.  Because it _hurt_.  It hurt worse than those bullets and she…

“You can go now,” Felicity told Oliver as coldly as she could manage, because she wouldn’t run to him and she couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him for another moment with that being true.   And she sure as _hell_ shouldn’t have to be the one to leave. 

Oliver crumbled.  Not just his face.  His whole body sort of shrunk into itself and for a moment Felicity was glad, because she wanted him to hurt as much as she was hurting. 

“Felicity…?”

“You can _go_ ,” she repeated.  Oh, why wouldn’t he just go?  Felicity just…she just wanted to sink down onto the floor and cry.  And she refused to do it with Oliver there.

But, instead, Oliver stepped toward her.  “Can we just—?”

“What part of me needing space did you not understand?”  What would it take to get him to leave? 

“You’re right,” Oliver whispered, retreating the steps he had advanced and then some.  “I’ll…but I still think you shouldn’t be alone—”

“I’ll call my mother as soon as you’re gone.”  Felicity was proud of how strong she sounded.  Shocked at how cold. 

Oliver pressed his lips together, his face becoming a mask.  Not that it did anything to hide the devastation in his eyes.  Not to someone who knew what to look for.  “Then I’ll just…”  He walked past her to the kitchen to grab his jacket and the USB drive. 

Of course.  He needed to get that to William.  Felicity had to look away.  At this rate, she wasn’t going to succeed in not breaking down before Oliver left.  And she was afraid that if she did, he wouldn’t leave. 

Oliver was closer than she thought, _too_ close when he whispered, “For what it’s worth, I never meant to hurt you.”

And maybe if she hadn’t been so close to the edge, Felicity wouldn’t have hissed back, “You never _mean_ to hurt anyone.”

The only response Oliver gave was an audible swallow as he headed for the door, his Goddamn shoulders hunched over like she had just shot his puppy and…oooo, it just made her so _mad_. 

Felicity saw red and she yelled out, “What did you _think_ was going to happen?  Did you think that you could just keep running off to Central City every month?  After we were _married_?  Were you going to keep lying to me indefinitely?  How on _Earth_ did you imagine no one would get hurt?!”

Well, Oliver said she could yell at him.  It seemed that was exactly what Felicity was going to do.  Maybe a fight was what she needed.  It felt good actually.  It was better than collapsing in a heap.

Oliver turned back to her, throwing his arms out in a helpless gesture, shaking his head.  Poor helpless Oliver Queen.  So powerless.  Poor baby. 

“I thought…I thought that I could convince Samantha…that if she could see how much I had changed, if William liked me then…she’d change her mind.”

But instead of soothing her, Oliver’s words pulled at the most insecure places inside her.  And Felicity was no longer in a place where she could hold back.   “Because her feelings are more important than mine?”

Felicity’s words were petty and childish.  She knew that.  They were beneath her.  But, Goddamn, it that was how it _felt_.  And it hurt.  It hurt so _damn_ much.

“No!  _No_!”  Oliver advanced on her, shaking his head vigorously as if he could erase Felicity’s words.  Was this the first time he was realizing what he had done?  “No one’s more import—”

A hysterical laugh ripped from Felicity’s throat.  “How can you even say that with a straight face?!”

Stepping back, visibly shaken, Oliver faltered, whispering, “He’s a child, Felicity.” 

Was there a note of accusation in his voice?  Like Oliver expected her to understand?  He expected Felicity to pick his child… _any_ child over her own feelings.  It filled her with shame and made her even more furious, because she wasn’t a _fucking saint_!  How come _everyone else_ was allowed to make mistake after mistake, but Felicity was expected to be Mother fucking Theresa all the time?

“This isn’t about William.  Telling me wasn’t going to put William in danger.  It’s about you lying to _me_ , so that you could keep _Samantha_ _’_ _s_ secret.”  And this time, Felicity could hold her head high, because that _wasn_ _’_ _t_ petty.  That was just the truth.  And, yeah, maybe she would have chosen William if was him versus her.  But it shouldn’t have been.  There was no reason Oliver couldn’t have chosen _both_ of them.

Maybe that was why Oliver looked even more desperate as he denied, “I did _not_ chose Samantha over you!”  But he didn’t have a real argument against it.  There wasn’t one.

“Didn’t you?” Because, though, she wasn’t accusing Oliver of cheating, she knew he hadn’t, physically or emotionally, he had still chosen Samantha’s feelings, her trust, over Felicity’s.

“No!” Oliver practically roared the word, his face bright red.  “I _wanted_ to tell you.  I—”

Funny how the more out of control he got, the more in control Felicity felt.  “Really?  Because I remember that day in Central City, when we were going after Savage.  You didn’t _look_ like out wanted to confide in me, Oliver.  To turn to me.  Not the way couples who plan to spend their lives together are supposed to.”  Maybe her voice rose at the end there.

And that stopped him.  Oliver scrubbed his face.  He did this little thing where he danced away from her, before turning back.  He was starting to look a little unhinged.  At least, Felicity knew he was hearing her. 

“I told you I fucked up.  I was scared and confused and I fucked up,” Oliver was yelling again by the end, his eyes wild.  “But I didn’t, wouldn’t, _ever_ chose Samantha over you!”

“Four months, Oliver.  _Four months_ you could have confessed, brought me in, told me the truth, asked me to keep the secret _with_ you.  But, instead, you made up stories, elaborate lies so you could run off to Central—”

“Twice! Twice I went to Central City without you and I tried to keep as close to the truth as possible—”

“You can’t possibly think that that’s a justification—”

“Both times I _pleaded_ with Samantha to let me tell you.  Felicity, I’ve only seen my son five times in his entire life, including the time I saw him in a coffee shop and didn’t even know he was mine _and_ the time I saved him from a mass murderer!”

It was playing dirty, playing the sympathy card.  Oliver knew Felicity would empathize.  She took a breath and pressed on, “And that is awful, which is all the more reason you should have been able to turn to me.  You told Thea and _Barry_ —”

“I _didn_ _’_ _t_!”  Oliver held out a finger, his eyes intense, as if he finally felt justified in an argument.  “I _told_ no one.  Thea was looking for skeletons in the closet because of the campaign and found out on her own.  Barry…I’m not even sure how he found out.  It had to do with time travel, but I certainly didn’t _confide_ in him.  And you know I didn’t _tell_ Malcolm Merlyn.”

“You should have told _me_.”  And, maybe, Felicity was just repeating herself, but nothing he said changed that irrefutable fact.

“You were the only one I even _wanted_ to tell.  _You_ were the one I pleaded with Samantha to allow…” Oliver trailed off with a frustrated grunt.  “I _know_ I should have told you.  I know that now.”

“It’s too late _now_!  The damage is done!”

A look of sheer panic washed over Oliver’s face and he took two long steps toward her, grabbing her hands.  “Why?  _Why_ does it have to be?  I’m no more messed up than I was when I came back from Nanda Parbat and you forgave me then!”

Oh, that was not the argument he wanted to use.  “Because this can’t be our lives, Oliver!  You can’t marry me, yet expect me to just forgive you over and over.  Especially, when you push me away in the middle of a crisis!”

“Just one more time,” Oliver pleaded and Felicity had never seen him like this before.  It was so hard to turn from him.  “ _Please_.  I know I’m wrong.  I’ll…I’m trying and I’ll do better.”

“ _Oliver_ …”  Why did this have to be so difficult?  Felicity looked away, she couldn’t stay strong if she kept her eyes on his.  Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to pull her hands away.  “This is different.  We made a commitment to each other—”

“I know.  Just…”  Oliver closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose before putting the full force behind those damn pleading puppy-dog eyes.  “I’ll do anything,” he whispered and Felicity’s breath caught because she didn’t think he had ever…couldn’t even have imagined him saying that before.  “I’ll give you space.  I’ll move into the Bunker, just…let me try to prove to you that I can do better.”

Felicity’s shoulders slumped and her vision blurred.  What was she even supposed to say to that?

But Oliver kept talking, so she didn’t need to.  “Because I swear to you, I will _never_ lie to you again.  I will never keep another secret from you.  You’re my always, Felicity, _please_.”

He wasn’t playing fair.  Felicity could only manage a whisper when she asked, “And what happens when we’re married and maybe even have a baby…?” Oliver sucked in a hissing breath and she was, somehow, able to look him in the eye again, to challenge him, “And there is another crisis, a bigger big bad…do you revert back to form and send us away?”  Her voice cracked and she barely got the rest out.  “Do you leave us?  Me?”

“No!  Never!”  Oliver’s answer was almost too quick, too vehement.  His hands clutched hers even tighter and Felicity didn’t know if she would be able to remove them if she tried.  Why didn’t she try?

Maybe, because all of Felicity’s righteous fire had burned out.  Her next words were barely audible, “You just sent William away.”

And Oliver just deflated, as if all the air was sucked out of him and he whimpered, “ _Felicity_ …”

“Though, maybe…” A terrible thought occurred to her and Felicity… “Maybe after William, you’ve decided that it’s too dangerous to have children.”  And, again, Oliver decided alone.  She thought she just might hyperventilate.

“No!  Felicity, no!”

“And—”

“No!  Stop!” Oliver adjusted his grip on her hands, yanking her closer, making her eyes fly to his and what she saw there…it gave her something she desperately needed in that moment and she couldn’t make herself tare them away.  “I _want_ to have children with you.  I want that desperately,” Oliver’s voice cracked and it…it was really hard to doubt the honesty in his eyes.  “I would never abandon you.  I’m sorry for making you even think that.  I’m not your father—”

It was like a knife to her chest and it gave Felicity the strength to wrench herself out of his grip, stalking away from him, needing distance, needing…how _dare_ Oliver bring up her father?  Now of all times?  How dare he call her out on _her_ issues?

“Aren’t you?” Felicity yelled back, tears falling again.  “How is what you’re doing with William any different?” 

But Felicity knew that it was.  Her father left because he was selfish, Oliver was doing this because he was too…stupidly self _less,_ because he was a Goddamn martyr.  He just didn’t stop to think about who he hurt along the path to his righteous self-destruction.

“It’s _completely_ different,” Oliver whispered and Felicity didn’t need to look at him, the hurt in his voice was clear enough.

“Really?  How?”  Felicity rounded on him, gaining fuel again.  “Because you’re the Green Arrow?”  She was sick of that excuse.

“Because William doesn’t _know_ me.”  Oliver’s voice was low and passionate.  “Not really.  Because he doesn’t live under my roof where I can keep him safe.  He lives with Samantha, who is the only family he has ever known and he has been happy.  And Samantha is _not_ my family.  _You_ are my family.  _That_ is how it’s different.”

“Well…” Now _Felicity_ felt deflated.  Because she hadn’t thought of it like that. 

And when she did think about it that way…didn’t Samantha have more rights than anyone to decide how William was raised?  Shouldn’t it be her choice where he lived?  And why wouldn’t she do anything to keep him safe, including keeping him away from the father he’d never known if his life was dangerous?  Wouldn’t her own mother have made the same choice?

But Oliver had rights too.  William had rights. 

“I still don’t think _that_ ,” Felicity gestured to the USB drive, “is fair to William.”  From one fatherless child to another.  Though, maybe that _was_ clouding her judgement.  She just didn’t know any more.

“It’s what Samantha wants,” Oliver whispered, his hand reaching for her, then falling in defeat.  “I…how do I go against her wishes—?”

“You fight for him!”  And, maybe, Felicity was projecting here, but, maybe, also, she was sick and tired of Oliver’s complete deference to that woman’s wishes.

“But…how would I keep him safe?”  Oliver looked like he was really hoping Felicity had an answer for that one.  “If Samantha wants to leave, I can’t make her stay and even if I could, I…I don’t know how to keep him safe.  If he could live with me, maybe…but I can’t take him from his mother.  I can’t even make her stay in town where I can watch over them…”

His eyes pleaded with her, to find an answer, to fix this for him, for them.  But Felicity…she had nothing.  All she could come up with was…Oliver was right.  Given the circumstances…it would be hard enough for the two of them to have a baby and keep it safe, but he or she would be under their roof, raised into this life, with protections in place and a father who knew where they were every minute. 

But…the only way that could even begin to be the case for William was if he moved in with Oliver… both William _and_ Samantha.  Because Oliver could never take his son from his mother.

And Felicity was just selfish enough to not even contemplate that path.  Because that was a knife in her stomach that twisted and…she had never felt jealousy like she did in that moment.

But Oliver didn’t want that.  Samantha didn’t want that.  So…Felicity wouldn’t think about it.  She couldn’t.

Instead, Felicity concentrated on the one intelligent argument she had left.  “Well, I still think letting them go away with no way to contact you, and vice versa, is pretty dumb.” 

And, while Oliver still looked like a kicked puppy, instead of being insulted, he was looking at her like she was his savoir, hanging on her every word.  He crossed his arms tightly across his chest and waited. 

So, Felicity kept taking.  “What if something changes here?   A new threat and you need to contact them, warn them? What if you get seriously hurt or sick?  Or if Samantha or William need you… _us?_   Cutting off all contact makes it impossible for us to protect them.” 

Something terrible could happen to William and they wouldn’t even know it, but Felicity’s anger had dimmed enough that she didn’t want to add that burden, that worry, to his plate.  As upset as she was, she couldn’t stand the idea of Oliver wondering everyday if his son was alive or dead and not being able to check to find out.

Oliver hugged himself more tightly, his shoulders hunched over until he was almost curled into himself.  There weren’t a lot of people he let see him this way, if any.  It reminded Felicity that she _did_ know him.  That he wasn’t a _compulsive_ liar, even if he _did_ make some really bad choices and keep some really big secrets.  Day to day, he allowed her to see him.  This wasn’t an act.

“Then what should I do?” Oliver whispered and Felicity shook her head.  If only he had asked her that question four months ago…or yesterday…or _two hours ago_ , everything would have been different.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut and blew out a breath.  She didn’t even know what she was doing anymore.  How was she supposed to answer that? 

The big idiot.  Oliver really did mean well.  But could Felicity live with his well-meaning, _awful_ choices?  When… _if_ they got married every one that he made could throw her life completely off course.

Then Felicity realized that she had gone from _when_ they got married to…they were _not_ getting married… back to _if_ in her head.  It was enough to give a girl whiplash.

Felicity mirrored his stance and hugged herself, but...finally, she made a decision and marched over to the wall, turning her back to him, because she really wasn’t ready for Oliver to know she was back to ‘if’ and she was afraid he would be able to read it on her face.

She pushed aside a vacation photo they had mounted on the wall, a little too roughly, disgusted as she was by the happy look on the couple’s faces.  She really needed to find a painting or something to replace it.  For a while anyway.

Finding their safe, Felicity punched in the complicated code.   Then she took a deep breath and took stock.  Was she sure she wanted to do this?  Maybe it was time to embrace the ‘if.’  It was all the surety she would get at the moment.

“Get me the ring,” Felicity snapped at Oliver, biting the inside of her cheek and hoping she was making the right choice.  It felt right, but…her emotions were too all over the place to trust that.

“Why?”  Oliver looked lost and scared and…Felicity had to fight the bone deep need to reassure him.

She tried to keep her voice hard and trained her eyes ahead, staring, unseeingly, at the contents of the safe.  “Because I’m not…I _can_ _’_ _t_ wear it right now.”  She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head, angry at herself for those last two words.  They revealed too much.  “So, I am putting it in the safe.”

Oliver was next to her in a second, ring in his palm, and the fact that he didn’t question it further showed he’d picked up on those two slipped words…‘right now.’   When Felicity finally looked at him, he still looked like a lost puppy-dog, but there was hope in his eyes too.

Damn it!  She… wasn’t ready to give him hope.  And that was awful and selfish and she didn’t even know if her own would last.  Felicity wasn’t even sure if she was more afraid of giving him false hope or the real variety.

Felicity snatched up the ring, throwing Oliver an irritated look, ‘cause…still his fault.  She all but threw the ring into the safe, which felt kinda childish, but it wasn’t like the damn thing was going to break.  She grabbed what she had come there for in the first place and slammed the safe shut with more force than necessary.

Turning, Felicity slapped it into Oliver’s hand and announced, “This is one of my untraceable satellite phones, the ones I keep for emergencies, because _I_ keep _phones_ for emergencies, not plans to disappear from my friends and family.”  She really couldn’t resist the dig.  “I gave one to Roy.  Give this one to Samantha.  The only one who can track it is me.” 

Oliver’s fingers slowly curled around the phone and he stared at it like he it was afraid it would disappear.  Finally, he whispered, “This is why I should have talked to you before making any decisions about William, isn’t it?”

_Now_ he gets it.  “Yes, Oliver.”

He raised his eyes to hers, his teeth worrying his lower lip.  “I’m an idiot.”

“ _Yes_ , Oliver.”  And, maybe, Felicity said it a tad too vehemently.  No, you know what?  _No_ , she didn’t.  There was no way to _too vehemently_ agree to that statement.  It was boundless in its vehement… _ness_.

Oliver’s lips twitched.  “I’ll do better.”

Goddamn him and his ability to say the perfect thing.  All Felicity could do now was give him a hard look.  She didn’t trust herself to speak, because she wanted to say, ‘You had better.’  And that was giving away way too much.

“So, um…”  Oliver nodded and bit his lip, clearly not knowing what he was supposed to do now.  “I need to get this to Samantha before she…do you want me to call Curtis or your mom, before I—?”

“I can do that,” Felicity told him, maybe a tiny bit sarcastically, wagging her fingers at him.  “These have always worked just fine.”

Swallowing, Oliver’s gaze dropped and he nodded, starting to walk backward.  “Oh.  Okay, then.  I should…”

“Go.”  It was a command.  Though, maybe not as _commanding_ as Felicity would have liked.

Oliver nodded again and walked to the door, but he froze with his hand on the doorknob.  Felicity’s heart accelerated as she watched, not sure if she wanted him to turn back or not.  Did she _really_ want her space?  Or did she want him to beg?  No, not beg…that was too harsh, but…to do something, _anything_ to convince her.  To figure out a way to put her heart back together.

He did turn back and Felicity held her breath.  Was there anything Oliver _could_ say to make it better?

“Do you want to come with me?” Oliver burst out with, looking for all the world like a boy asking a girl to his first Homecoming Dance.  “To…um…give these to Samantha?  To say goodbye to William?”

Felicity sucked in a breath.  She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this.  She should say ‘no.’  She wasn’t Oliver’s fiancé anymore.  She didn’t know _what_ they were now and she needed space, time.  She…

Crossing her arms, Felicity drew herself up as tall as she was able and asked, “Is this you trying to include me?”

Swallowing and shuffling his feet, Oliver croaked out, “Uh…yes.”

Felicity twisted up her mouth, but really that was for show, because she was struggling to figure out what she should do with his offer.  “You realize we are currently… _un_ engaged?”  She didn’t know what they were?  Broken up…?  On a break…?  Something…ish…?  But definitely _un_ engaged.

“I am…unfortunately, aware of that fact.”  Oliver looked like he’d swallowed a rather large lemon and he, again, crossed his arms tightly, shifting from foot to foot.

“And you still want me to go with you to say goodbye to your son?  Who doesn’t know he is your son?” Felicity couldn’t resist that last gibe.

“Yes…I…if you want to that is.”

Damn it.  “Why?” It came out nasty and Felicity wasn’t even sure why she asked it, other than she was so upset that Oliver hadn’t done something like _this_ earlier and saved them both the heartbreak.

Oliver stood his ground, clearing his throat and saying, “Because I’m trying and…I would really like you there.  Even if we are… _unengaged,_ you are still the most important person in my life.” 

And, wow, that…home run.  Oliver was pulling out all the stops here and it was obvious that he was trying.

They stared at each other for a full minute and maybe the eye contact got a little too intense and Felicity wasn’t sure if she could hold it.   Oliver saved her from having to find out, breaking it first, his eyes falling to the floor as he muttered, “But only if it wouldn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

Damn him.  Damn him.  _Damn_ him.

“Fine.”

Oliver’s head snapped up, a smile just beginning to form on the corners of his lips.  “Really?”

“Don’t push it,” Felicity grumbled as she stalked over to him and, yeah, it felt good to walk like that, even without heels.  Strong and forcefully.  For a moment there, she almost felt like herself again.

Oliver bit his lip to fight it, but his whole damn puppy face was smiling as he offered, “I can bring you to the doctor after.”

“I’m fine, Oliver,” Felicity grumbled.  Though, it was a sweet thought.

“Just in case…”

Lord, did he _have_ to mother-hen her?  “You can bring me to Curtis and Paul’s after.  They know more about the implant than the doctors, anyway.”

Oliver’s face fell into a relieved smile.  “Thank you!”  Then he hastily added, “And then I’ll give you all the space you need.  I’ll move into the bunker for n—I’ll move into the bunker.”

Just the suggestion made Felicity’s eyes fill with tears and her chest tighten.  She could barely stand it.  And then she made another decision, this one even more risky than the ones that had come before.

She refused to look at him as she said, “You can move your things out of our room.”  Felicity took a breath.  God, give her strength.  Please, let her be doing the right thing.  “And into Thea’s old room.  Just while I’m recovering,” she rushed to add, because beyond that, Oliver was going to have to…she didn’t know…prove something or convince her or whatever.  “I probably shouldn’t be here by myself with all those stupid stairs until…until I know my legs aren’t going to give out.”

It was sound reasoning.  All of it very true.  But, in her heart of hearts, Felicity would probably need to admit that it was mostly just an excuse.  But not today.  Today, she was going to pretend it was exactly what she said it was. 

Oliver stared at her in shock for a full minute before…well, he couldn’t even begin to hold back his beaming smile, though Felicity could tell he tried.  “No…right…just until we know everything is fine.”

That smile was so damn irritating.   Mostly because it was still so heart-melting.  Stupid, stupid beautiful smile.   Felicity stuck a finger out at him.  “This is just because I shouldn’t have to deal with living with my mother just because you decided to be an Asshat.”  Oliver’s eyes widened and when he didn’t say anything more, Felicity snapped self-consciously, “What?”

“Asshat?”

Ohhhh, the damn idiot was amused again.  Oliver was getting way to comfortable if he wasn’t even going try to hide this amusement.  “I’ve always wanted to use that word and it felt like a very appropriate time,” Felicity defended.

“O…k….”

Great, now she embarrassed.  No fair.  “It’s been a horrible day,” Felicity said both to defend herself and, maybe a little, to put Oliver back in his place.

“Yes, it has.”   But Oliver didn’t look nearly as…destroyed as he had before.

“I’ve been using the word ‘fuck’ all day too.”  Felicity really wasn’t sure why she said that.

Oliver looked even more shocked, but at least he wasn’t laughing at her. “Ah…no, you haven’t.”

She hadn’t?  Felicity really thought she had.  “Well, in my head at least.”

And even though she said it very fiercely…well, maybe _because_ she said it very fiercely, Oliver pressed his lips together and looked down and Felicity just knew he was laughing.  Internally. 

Felicity actually reconsidered her concessions.  Going with him to see William.  Letting him stay in Thea’s old room, but…she really didn’t want to.  And there was such affection in Oliver’s eyes.  It warmed her more than it should. 

Once he had control of himself, Oliver said, “I’m just going to run upstairs and grab your sneakers.  I’ll be right back.”

Then he was running up the stairs before Felicity could criticize his overprotectiveness _or_ …argue that she wanted to wear her new boots when she saw his Baby Mama…or…anything.  At least she’d be able to stand tall next to Samantha.  That was something, wasn’t it?

Once Oliver had disappeared into their… _her_ bedroom, Felicity turned and let her head fall against the door, letting out a long breath. 

Had she given in too much?  Should she have made him leave?  Or left herself?  Or, maybe, she should have just forgiven him so they could both be happy…it wasn’t like Felicity didn’t know what she was getting into when she ran away with him all those months ago.  Oliver was Oliver.

Felicity had no idea what she _should_ be doing.  Or even what she wanted.

No.  That wasn’t true.  Felicity knew she _didn_ _’_ _t_ want to give up on him.  Not really.  She…loved Oliver more than anything.  And the idea of walking away from him, for good, it left a crushing emptiness in her chest that made it hard to breathe.

But Felicity didn’t want to just delay that feeling, either.  She didn’t want to give in now, just to have Oliver break her heart even worse later.  And maybe the heart of her child.

But asking her to come with him to see William off was a start.  As was taking her advice about the phone.

Felicity looked over at her wheelchair, then down at her feet and wiggled her bare toes.  It had been quite the 24 hours.  It wasn’t even all bad.  But everything had changed and the good didn’t wipe away how incredibly betrayed she felt.  How unsure she was that Oliver could actually be a good husband and father.  Be consistent.  Be a partner.

Everyone thought Felicity would forgive him.

But she didn’t.  Not yet.  But what was she supposed to do when the person who broke her heart was also her soulmate?  When he begged her to let him try and fix it?

Felicity didn’t forgive him. 

Not today.

But, maybe, Felicity had a little bit of hope left for tomorrow.  Or, at least, the day after that.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve received a fair amount of hate for my post break-up writing and I’m prepared to get it for this as well.  But, I’ll also say that the “hate” _inspired_ this because it made me think.  I felt the need to go back, before that heart-wrenching scene at the end of 4x16 and explore Felicity’s motivations when she gave back the ring.  I don’t know that any of those people who hated my other pieces will like this better, but I’m glad I wrote it.  I like it and it was cathartic for me.  So, thank you.
> 
> Also, the hugest thanks to **Ireland1733 and** **Fairytalehearts** for standing by me through all my writing endeavors and working hard to help me be the best I can be.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  I look forward to hearing what people think!  If you enjoyed this, please leave a kudo and/or a comment and don’t forget to check out my other stories.  _To Sacrifice the Sun_ (an angsty epic adventure set in the world of the ancient Mayans) is back next week.
> 
> Emmy
> 
> http://emmilynestill.tumblr.com/
> 
>  


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